


I moved the pencil

by Violette_Witch



Series: Supernatural drabbles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family Bonding, Gen, Psychic Sam Winchester, Sam being a good dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24745516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Witch/pseuds/Violette_Witch
Summary: Jack discovers that Sam has been keeping a secret for the past few years
Relationships: Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/500101
Comments: 5
Kudos: 98





	I moved the pencil

Jack was walking through the bunker, minding his own business when he heard a strange sound. It was a … humming. Not like a machine or a spell, but like somebody was humming a soft tune. Now, Jack admitted to himself that there was still a lot he didn’t know about what counted as “normal,” but he didn’t think he’d heard anything like it in the bunker before. Sure, Dean would sometimes sing along to his music, but that was something entirely different.

Jack followed the humming to Sam’s room, the door of which was cracked open just slightly. Carefully, Jack peered through the crack and saw Sam sitting at his desk. He appeared to be humming to himself. Well, there wasn’t anything particularly strange about that. Jack was about to turn away when something darted across his vision. He started, then peered closer into the room. A pencil was floating, darting around the room, making patterns in the air at random. Except … it wasn’t entirely random; Jack could see that Sam’s left hand was moving in exact time with the flying pencil.

He had the immediate thought that this was not something he was supposed to have seen.

He very carefully lifted his foot, not making any noise, but before he could move, Sam turned around in his chair, and Jack could feel his eyes on him, although the door was technically obstructing the view.

“Jack?” Sam called, and Jack heard the pencil clatter to the floor. Sam came over and opened the door, “do you … need something?” he asked.

On one hand, Jack knew that Sam had always been good to him. Chances were that, even if what Jack had just seen was a secret, Sam wouldn’t be mad. But on the other hand, even if Sam was nice about it, he might still be mad and just try to hide it from Jack, and Jack didn’t want to make him mad. But he also didn’t want to lie. Because lying was bad, except for when you lied for a case, because then it was good. It was all very confusing.

After a moment of frantic thought, he decided to just be honest. “I saw the pencil … moving,” he said, gesturing to the pencil which lay on the ground behind Sam.

Sam opened his mouth slightly, then seemed to think better of it. He looked at Jack for a long time, and Jack started to worry that he’d picked the wrong response. Eventually, Sam stepped back from his doorway, “Why don’t you come in,” he said, “and we can talk about it.”

Jack walked into Sam’s room, stiffly finding a seat and looking around at the walls. He felt like he should be looking for clues of some kind, but he didn’t know what he was looking for. After making sure the door was tightly shut, Sam sat down facing him, elbows on knees, fingers laced together.

They sat in silence for a minute, and Jack wasn’t sure if he was supposed to speak first. He didn’t really know what to say.

Finally, Sam spoke, “So, you saw my little … parlor trick,” he said, pointing to the pencil. He crooked a finger and the pencil floated slowly toward them, landing in Sam’s hand. He held it out for Jack to take, “I guess you probably want to know how I can do that.”

Jack looked at the pencil, which was entirely ordinary, they had tons of pencils in the bunker just like it. It was identical to the one Sam had asked him to move back when he was still figuring out his powers – back when he was allowed to use his powers. “You said before,” he began slowly, “that you knew how it felt … to be afraid of what you can do.” It had been a while, but Jack still remembered that conversation. It had been the first time he’d felt like maybe he didn’t have to be alone.

“Right,” Sam said, nodding, “That’s because I … I used to be psychic,” he said, “I would have dreams about things before they happened, have … _feelings_ that would turn out to be true. I didn’t know until I was in my 20’s, but I had always felt … different. Like I didn’t really belong anywhere.”

Jack nodded, he knew that his own life had been extremely unique, but of everyone he’d met, he’d always felt like Sam understood that part of him best; the loneliness of being different. “’Used to be?’” he repeated after a moment, noticing the past tense, “what happened?”

“Well … I started to realize that my powers weren’t limited to just dreams and … vibes,” Sam told him, “I realized I could move things with my mind too,” he said, and the pencil flew from Jack’s hands back to Sam. There was a somber tone in his voice that worried Jack. “Now … this is the part of the story that I’m not very proud of,” he said, averting his gaze, “but I met someone who told me how I could make my powers stronger. I did what she said, even though I knew it was wrong, and … I did get stronger, but I also made a lot of mistakes. Really big mistakes. That’s how Lucifer got free the first time. And after all of that … I didn’t want to use my powers anymore. I didn’t think I could.”

Jack remembered hearing vague references to some of this before. He knew a bit about Lucifer and the apocalypse, the first time they’d met Michael – the other Michael, his uncle, not the one he’d met in Apocalypse world – but when it got to the specifics of how things had gone down, Sam and Dean would usually glance at each other, shrug, and say something generic before moving on.

Jack also vividly remembered the argument he’d overheard between Sam and Dean, when he was only a few weeks old, remembered Sam referring to himself as a “freak” and something about “demon blood.” He’d never asked about that. He didn’t know if Sam knew that he had been listening. It didn’t feel like the kind of thing you just brought up.

“Then …” Jack said, uncertainly, “how did they come back? Was it like with mine? Did you need something like grace or have to do a spell or …”

“No, nothing like that,” Sam said, with a breath of a laugh, “my powers aren’t attached to anything like grace. They’re … well, I guess they come from Azazel, although now that he’s dead I’m not sure how that works, not that I haven’t looked for an explanation …” he trailed off for a moment, glancing at a few of the books he had stacked on his desk, before refocusing on Jack, “but no, I didn’t do any kind of spell … I, uh, I met someone,” he said.

“Met someone?” Jack repeated, confused.

“Yeah, this young girl, a psychic,” Sam said, “I had honestly kind of … tried to forget about my powers, move on. I had so many regrets from that point in my life I didn’t really want to dwell on – a year before that I’d been having some visions but … they ended up being …”

“From Lucifer,” Jack said helpfully, “so you went to the cage. That’s when Cas let him possess him, and that’s how he got out and met my mom,” he was a bit proud of himself, for knowing this part of the story. 

“Right,” Sam said, and Jack wasn’t sure if he was amused or uncomfortable, but he continued, “I still haven’t _really_ had a vision in a long time, not like I used to, but, meeting that girl – it made me remember that powers like that are what you make of them. She didn’t understand her gift, and she’d been hurting people by accident because of it, but that didn’t make her … evil. It didn’t make her powers evil. And … I started to wonder if I would still be able to use my powers, if I really tried.” He opened his hand and the pencil started to slowly float up, then spin in a perfect circle, “So, when Dean and I got home, I closed myself in my room and … I moved a pencil.”

Jack smiled, “Just like you asked me to do.”

“That’s right,” Sam said, returning his smile for a moment, before focusing his eyes on the pencil, “it took me quite a few tries too, I think I had like, I don’t know, a mental block. And I’ll never be as strong as I was when …” he trailed off, then let the pencil drop to the floor, “but that’s ok, because I don’t need to be powerful, I can use it as it is.”

Jack thought about that, he thought about how he had felt when he’d first lost his powers – useless, powerless – and how he felt now that he knew he could use them, but everyone told him not to. Told him it would cost too much. He couldn’t really imagine what it would be like, to not have them for years, and then get them back, but at a small fraction of the potential he knew they had.

Still, something would be better than nothing. He wanted to lift the pencil up off the floor himself, but he knew Sam would yell at him if he did. Lecture him on the importance of a soul. So he didn’t. He just stared at it.

“Does Dean know?” he ended up asking, “and Cas?”

Sam sat back in his chair, looking contemplative, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Cas suspected something,” he said, “but Dean – no. No, I don’t … he didn’t react too well the first time around. I think he would just get worried.”

Jack was confused, “but wouldn’t it be helpful, when you’re working a case? Shouldn’t you just tell him?”

Sam sighed deeply, “you’re right, it would be helpful if I could use them openly but … I don’t know with everything that keeps happening I just feel like there hasn’t been a good moment to … talk about it. But I do use them, when I can,” The pencil floated up and settled on top of the desk, “when I know that Dean won’t see,” he was silent for a few moments, and Jack thought he looked … sad. Lonely. “Don’t tell Dean about this, ok? If I do tell him, I want it to come from me.”

Jack nodded quickly, “Right, don’t mention it to Dean,” he sighed before muttering to himself, “Now I have two secrets to keep from Dean.”

“What?” Sam asked.

Jack’s eyes widened as he realized he’d spoken aloud, “Nothing,” he said quickly.

“Two secrets?” Sam sat forward; brow furrowed in concern.

“It’s nothing,” Jack repeated, he wracked his brain for a quick lie, “Just something Cas said …”

But it seemed he didn’t need to come up with a lie, because as soon as he said ‘Cas,’ Sam said, “Oh, right. Ok,” as if he understood, although the smile that crept onto his face told Jack that whatever Sam was thinking, it was very different from the secret Cas had asked _him_ to keep.


End file.
